Father, I'm tired. I feel worn. Just like this hair elastic on my wrist that has held back my unwashed hair today. It looks as though it will fray and break any time now.
I scraped dried up oatmeal off my neck yesterday after church. The girls' breakfast. Not my most feminine accessory.
The piles of dishes and laundry whisper behind my back. They know I'm not good enough. The bills and the toddler tug at the leg of my sweat pants. The budget and the babies beg for attention.
The whine, the bang, the scream...it wears on my heart, Father. I long for quiet.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have called me to this blessed task, and yet, most days I feel so unworthy. My temper is short, my patience thin, and my selfishness at large. Could there have been a mistake?
And in the rare occasion that I have done an exceptional job, there are very few to appreciate my blood sweat and tears. Okay, so mostly tears. There are no pats on the back or promotions. Do you see me God? Your word says that you do. Will you help me to believe your promises? Why didn't you tell me about the oatmeal on my neck?
These littles are so precious. I want them to have far more than what I can give. I want them to have you. And I'm such a poor representation. Love on me today, Lord. I need your romance, your humor, your encouragement.
Your Called Daughter